


Sickdays 4.0 Day 3: Made a Mess

by occasionalphantomfiction (SemiRetiredAuthor), sickficlurker (SemiRetiredAuthor)



Series: Danny Phantom Sickdays 4.0 [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Blood and Injury, Everyone Take a Moment of Silence for This Poor Janitor, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Sickdays 4.0, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/occasionalphantomfiction, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/sickficlurker
Summary: Short Sickdays 4.0 prompt fill for Made a Mess. Even half-ghosts bleed when you use enough force.





	Sickdays 4.0 Day 3: Made a Mess

The janitor’s closet was _not_ the comfiest place to hide, but Danny had the sense that there wasn’t any place that would be particularly comfortable in his state.

Danny had had more than his fair share of wounds since gaining his ghost half, but today was a lot worse than the usual ecto-ray or two that hit him in battle. Johnny and Kitty had wanted to terrorize Amity Park on another one of their dates and hadn’t taken kindly to him asking them to leave. Kitty had backed down once he threatened to put them both in the thermos, but Johnny was up for a fight and immediately ordered Shadow to attack him.

He’d gone from perfectly fine to being in horrible pain in three seconds flat. The violent slash across his abdomen was too sudden for him to be prepared, and he didn’t even manage to dodge enough to lessen the damage.

Danny had pulled together the focus to capture the trio after that, but it had taken more out of him than usual. He honestly couldn’t even remember most of the trip to the janitor’s closet where he was now struggling through cleaning the deep cut. He absently noted that they’d need to resupply the first aid kit after this and more consciously wished he’d brought someone to help him. He _could_ dress his own wounds maybe ninety percent of the time, but that didn’t mean it was an enjoyable experience.

He’d phased through the door to avoid leaving streaks of ectoplasm on it, but he’d underestimated how much he was bleeding when he first arrived. The glowing puddle of green goo at his feet hadn’t had a chance to spread _too_ far before he’d dropped the ghost form. As a human, the bleeding had continued to grow the frankly disgusting puddle with a vengeance, morphing the bright green to more of a dark brown as the two quickly mixed in the floor. He wasn’t even sure it was worth trying to wrap the wound while he was still bleeding this badly, but what else could he do? It’s not like he could afford to walk into his house covered in blood and ectoplasm like he was. He needed to at least get the bleeding under control enough to change into clean clothes and _keep_ them clean.

After getting a grip on a clean patch of his shirt with his teeth, he’d succeeded in taping one end of the bandage to his back. No matter how gentle he was, moving his arm to complete each full loop of the material around his middle tugged at the wound, and he couldn’t quite bite back quiet pained moans. It was a Tuesday and around seven at night—long after the janitors usually left the school—so he had no real cause for concern, but his paranoid mind kept urging him to keep himself quiet and hidden.

The dizziness and accompanying mild nausea that he’d expected to have gotten used to long ago still made him pause in his work. It came with the territory of being a superhero who frequently lost more than a bit of blood, and Danny had done this enough to know exactly the kind of slow steady breaths he needed to take to temporarily will it away, but it was still annoying.

There had been stronger painkillers in this kit at some point. Danny couldn’t remember finishing those off, but he couldn’t find the bottle so he resigned himself to the less effective over-the-counter option. He grabbed three and swallowed them dry—he really needed to start paying more attention to the spare first aid kits _before_ things like the bottled water and strong painkillers were gone—before he grimaced. Hey, it was something. He debated whether it was worth it to wander to his locker looking for a snack before the combination of painkillers and his empty stomach made his nausea worse, but his locker was nowhere near here. Thinking of the pain he went through getting to this closet in the first place, he decided it would be better to deal with the potential nausea than aggravating the cut by walking around now. At this point, anything that could take the edge off was welcome, even if it brought its own side effects.

He turned back to the somewhat sloppily started bandage and picked up where he’d left off. He couldn’t feel the painful twinge quite so much now when he moved his arm and consequently pulled at the wound. He tried to pick up his steady pace wrapping his abdomen, and after a few more minutes punctuated by the occasional muffled groan or sharp hiss, he had a passably bandaged cut. He stood up slowly, stumbled dizzily around the frighteningly large puddle of blood and ectoplasm, and changed back into his ghost form; he wasn’t going to attempt lifting his arms enough to change out of his bloody shirt until he had stronger painkillers in his system, so Phantom would attract less attention than Fenton in his current condition.

The painkillers weren’t strong enough to completely nullify the sharp pain that came from standing, walking, or doing much of anything really, but at least the initial treatment was over with so he could stop accidentally tugging at the area. Now, he could go relax with his friends at Sam’s house while his accelerated healing took over the rest of the process. It had been a long time since he’d made time to play Doomed, and even through the pain he smiled at the thought of the good old fun he, Sam, and Tucker would have tonight.


End file.
